Creative Writing by Susan H. Hajec

Early Spring in Lucretia’s Garden

Last week, I sat awhile on the memorial bench in Lucretia’s front yard, enjoying the balmy early March seventy degree weather.

Lucretia’s front and back yards are actually gardens surrounding her home and giving enjoyment to all who pass by or pause to reflect.

I sat reflecting on our precious friendship that spawns from the 1960s, while we lived just down the street from Jude and Lucretia Thomas and we were “growing up” our family of young ones.

There was quite a bit to reflect on. It is still so easy to see these adults now, who are raising families of their own, as the little children they were, it seems not so long ago now. We all played together, laughed together, and were so very busy with family stuff.

There were the purple crocus, reaching up out of the still cold earth. The crocus to me looks so gentle, a flower of blessing and lifting of spirits. But it is also a flower of courage, for it arrives usually before winter flurries have had their last say for the year.

And so it was, one short week later a snow storm of six inches covered the Lexington Bluegrass and trees. It never deters the crocus from arriving however.

Over time, a blessed time, the family branches grow in varied directions and increase in number and we give thanks for all the blessings on our tree. We have planted our tree in rich soil and we honor and acknowledge the deep roots of all who have come before us.

The family tree reaches ever upwards, reaching for newness, becoming one with joy and with sorrow. Our lives are shaped by all that this tree contains.

Our tree does not stand alone. It is overseen by the God in whom we trust.

A heart that holds such sorrow, only the saints can understand. Judy, and her family, ever-present in our hearts and lives.

Linking the fun and promise with the grandchild generation….bright, bright, bright.

Lucretia goes to Mother Mary, and remains Mother and Nana to family.

Another summer visitor in Lucretia’s garden.

In the Nana is contained all the ages of the woman. Walk with her in her garden.

In the Garden
Jim Reeves

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses

And He walks with meAnd He talks with meAnd He tells me I am His ownAnd the joy we share as we tarry thereNone other has ever known

(He speaks and the sound of His voice)
(Is so sweet the birds hush their singing)
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing

And He walks with meAnd He talks with meAnd He tells me I am His ownAnd the joy we share as we tarry thereNone other has ever known